Advantage
by ScribbleDream
Summary: HP: Hermione feels like her friends are taking advantage of her and has only a certain Slytherin to fall back on. COMPLETED!
1. Favors

Title: Advantage  
Author:ScribbleDream  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Hermione feels like her friends are taking advantage of her and has only a certain Slytherin to fall back on.  
Author Notes: I'm looking for someone to beta for me. Leave it in the reveiws if you're interested. Oh, and please be constructive.  
Disclaimer: They aren't mine and I had to go through extensive therapy to be able to admit that._

* * *

Chapter One: Favors_

"What do you get when you boil wormroot?"

"Um... Soup?"

"Very funny."

"I thought so."

"You're an ass, Malfoy."

"No more than you, Granger."

Hermione slammed her head down on to her open Potions book and let out a stream of colorful curses that she would never have said if the circumstances didn't allow them. Draco Malfoy smirked down at her and waggled his finger in front of her face. "Language, Granger, language."

Hermione had a sudden temptation to bite his finger off.

"Get that thing out of my face," she hissed, pushing his hand away. "It's not my fault you're failing Potions. I don't even want to be here!"

"Well, that makes two of us," Malfoy replied, leaning back in his chair. "That's the first thing you've said that has made sense in... ever."

"So, why don't we go, then?"

"Because if I leave this little tutoring session, I will continue to fail Potions, and that's getting in the way of my Head Boy status."

"What 'Head Boy status?'" Hermione cried. "We're in sixth year! No one is Head Boy yet!"

"That's what you think."

"ARGH!" Hermione cried, standing up from her chair. Madame Pince looked over disapprovingly, and Hermione sat back down slowly, blushing. She gave the crusty old librarian an apologetic smile and leaned over to Malfoy.

"If anyone is going to be Head Boy in seventh year, it's sure as Hell not going to be you," she hissed into his face. "Dumbledore has many kind, upstanding wizards to choose from, as opposed to a known Death Eater's son!"

Malfoy's face flashed cold, but almost instantly returned to a cocky smirk. "And you think Weasel's going to beat me out?"

"I think Dumbledore is going to choose a better wizard and a better man than you are, Malfoy!"

"My, my, we have gotten off topic," said a sinister drawl from behind Hermione. She turned around slowly, already having recognized the voice.

"Professor Snape, we were just..."

"I don't care, Miss Granger," Snape chastised. His face was drawn up to look as though he was surprised, but behind his dark eyes there was a twinkle of satisfaction at having caught Hermione doing something she wasn't supposed to."You were supposed to be teaching Draco about Potions, and instead, you have lead him into the discussion of Head Boy-ship, none of which has anything to do with you, as you, I hope, are not in the running for Head _Boy_." Snape smirked, and looked remarkably like Malfoy.

Hermione was flabbergasted. "But, I didn't lead him that way! He's the one who brought it up, Professor..."

"You, as the tutor I assigned, were to teach him Potions," Snape interrupted. "You should have gotten him back on track. Ten points from Gryffindor, and if I come in here later today to find that you are speaking of anything but Potions, then you shall be joining me in a Saturday detention. Is that understood?"

Hermione hung her head. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Snape began to walk away, but turned to Malfoy at the last minute. "And Draco, do try to listen to her. You must get your grade up."

"Yes, sir," Malfoy replied with yet another smirk. As soon as Snape walked away, Malfoy turned to Hermione.

"All right, teach me about this wormroot thing."

* * *

Ron and Harry looked up from their homework assignments and were relieved to see Hermione bustle through the portrait hole. They had been struggling with their History of Magic essays all week, but as Hermione had been tutoring Malfoy, they had no one to help them. 

"Mione!" Ron cried as she walked toward them. "Mione, I'm so glad to see you..."

Hermione beamed. It was wonderful to see a friendly face after three hours with the Slytherin King.

"I'm glad to see you guys, too!" she replied, sitting down in the armchair adjastent to them. "I've had the most awful evening. I don't know how the teachers do it, trying to get through to Malfoy. He's as daft as paste, I tell you!"

"That's great, Hermione," Harry interrupted, "but we really, really need help on this History of Magic assignment. Do you know the date of that rebellion thing where all the elves attacked that one place..."

"But, don't you want to hear about my day?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe later, but we have to get this done!" Ron said. "If we don't, you know it's going to bite us in the arse later."

"But, I'm tired, guys, and I really need to talk to..."

"Come on, Mione," Harry pleaded.

"Yes, don't be selfish!" Ron said.

Hermione's mouth fell open. _She_ was being selfish? _She_ was? What kind of mixed up universe was this? She would have torn into them, but she was just too tired. Instead, she got up from her chair and walked up to her dormitory without a word.

Flopping down on her bed, she stared up at the ceiling and wanted desperately to talk to someone. But who?

Suddenly, she sat up from her bed, ran out of the dorm room and down the spiral staircase one level until she reached the fifth year's dorm. She poised her hand to knock, but the door opened as soon as her fist went down. Ginny was standing there, dressed in hot Muggle clothes, with three other fifth year Gryffindor girls whom Hermione knew to be Arianna Tibbet, Justina Phillips, and Oliver Wood's younger sister, Vivian.

"Hey, Hermione, how are you?" Vivian asked, as all four girls filed past her.

"I'm fine, how are-"

"Heard you had to tutor Malfoy, bummer," interrupted Arianna.

"Yes, actually, it-"

"Well, gotta go, see ya," cut off Justina, pulling the other three girls after her down the staricase.

Hermione caught Ginny's arm. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Party in the Room of Requirement," Ginny said, guiltily. "I'd have invited you, but it's fifth years only, I'm really sorry..."

"No, I don't want to come," Hermione said. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Ginny shifted her feet uncomfortably. "Can't it wait, Mione?"

"Well, I suppose..."

"Hey, wait a tick!" Arianna cried. "She can do it for us!"

The other girls nodded excitedly and Hermione looked to Ginny in confusion. "What do they mean?"

"Well, I kinda could never get out of here with my brother sitting in the Common Room," Ginny said, rubbing the back of her neck like she always did when she was nervous. "Not dressed like this anyways. So, I was thinking... could you steal Harry's Invisibility Cloak for me?"

Hermione stepped back. "Harry's Cloak? How did you know about that?"

"We've nicked it before," Justina said. "There are a lot of parties we are expected to make an appearance at."

"But... Harry would kill me!"

"Please, Hermione?" Ginny pleaded. "I've never asked you for anything ever in my life and you're my best friend and I really, really need to go to this party. Michael's going to be there and I have to show him what he missed when he broke up with me..."

"Wait... Michael Corner?" Hermione asked. Ginny's eyes widened. "I thought you said this was just a fifth year party. He's a seventh year."

"Well, I..."

"Why didn't you invite me? Why didn't you even _tell_ me?"

"I said I was sorry, Mione..."

"Why don't you just tell her the truth, Gin?" Arianna whispered from the back. Hermione folded her arms across her chest.

"The truth about what, Ginny?"

Ginny looked to her friends and down at the floor. "Tell her, Viv."

"You see, we can't take you to parties," Vivian said. "You kind of ruin our image. I mean, we are the most popular girls in the fifth year. Having a nerdy bookworm in our posse would kind of ruin everything. You understand, don't you, darling?"

Hermione couldn't say anything.

"I'm sorry, Mione," was all Ginny said.

"So, are you going to get the Cloak or not?" Justina grumped. Hermione shook her head.

"Not in a million years," she muttered and walked back up the staircase to her dorm room.

Again throwing herself on the bed, she looked over to Lavender Brown's bed. She was pretending to be asleep, but Hermione knew she wasn't really. Lavender snored when she was actually asleep.

"Lavender?" Hermione hissed into the darkness. "I know you're not sleeping, so talk to me, Lavender."

"What's wrong?" Lavender asked, opening her eyes. "You sound sad."

"I am," Hermione admitted.

"Well," Lavender began, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, "you can always talk to me."

Hermione sighed in relief. Finally. She launched into an explanation. "It's just that everyone seems to be..."

At that moment, Parvati Patil rushed through the door. "Lavender! Oh my God, you'll never believe who wants to meet us in the trophy room this very instant!"

"Not right now, Parvati, I'm talking with Herm-"

"Emery Jacobs and Danny Taylor!" Parvati squealed. Lavender's eyes lightened up.

"Are you serious? They want to talk to us?"

"Right now! Come on, let's go! We can totally sneak out, if Hermione will cover for us." Parvati looked to Hermione. "Won't you?"

Hermione sighed. "Of course. Wouldn't want you to pass this up."

They two girls left quickly, but not before Lavender said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. We'll talk in the morning I promise. Thanks so much!"

Hermione sighed and rolled over. After a few moments of staring at the ceiling and trying hard not to cry, she fell asleep.

* * *

A/N: Make sure to tell me what you think and the next chapter should be up soon. (More Draco in this chapter evil grin) 


	2. Dreaming

_Chapter Two: Dreaming_

The next morning, Hermione awoke to brilliant sunshine streaming through her window. It seemed like a good omen. She gave a smile and stretched her arms. She looked over to Lavender and Parvati's beds. They were empty. She raised an eyebrow. That was strange...

She looked down at her watch which was sitting on her bedside table and screeched. It was already noon! She'd missed two classes!

Hermione rushed around her dorm room, getting dressed as fast as possible. Grabbing her bag, she ran down the spiral stairs, out the portrait hole, and toward the Great Hall. She burst through the giant doors and ran through the grass toward the Greenhouses, where the fifth year Herbology class had just now begun to congregate.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled, and waved to her. "You missed Care of Magical Creatures and Transfiguration!"

"I...know..." she panted as she reached them.

"Don't worry though," Harry said. "Ron told McGonagall you were in the Hospital Wing."

"What about Hagrid?"

"All we had to tell him was that you had to tutor Malfoy last night and he understood," Harry grinned. "Where were you anyways?"

"I slept in. I'm really sorry." Hermione sighed. "Where's Parvati? She was supposed to wake me up when she got out of the shower..."

"Over there," Ron siad, pointing toward some Hufflepuff boys. "And Mione? You think you could help us with our essays tonight?"

Hermione sighed. It figured. "Sure, Ron. After my lesson with Malfoy, I'll help you guys."

They grinned. "Thanks, Mione."

Hermione walked over to Parvati, who was talking with Lavender and two Hufflepuff boys. She taped her on the shoulder. Parvati sent her a glare and ignored her. Lavender gave her a small smile and whispered to her, "Why are you late, Hermione?"

Hermione had no intention of whispering. "Because your _friend_ decided not to wake me up for the shower this morning!" she yelled, loud enough so that Parvati and the two boys could hear her. Parvati turned slowly around and glared at Hermione.

"I was in a hurry," she said, simply. "Maybe you should get an alarm clock and not put the burden on everyone else to do things for you."

"For one thing, alarm clocks are electronic, so they wouldn't work on the grounds," Hermione said. One of the boys, probably a Muggle born, snickered. "For another thing, _you_ were the one who agreed to waking me up. And how much effort could it possibly take for you to walk over to my bed and say, 'Oh, by the way, Hermione, class is starting in five minutes. Might want to wake up now!'"

"Well, I, uh, but you..."

"Oh, shut up, Parvati," Hermione said, shaking her head. "It doesn't matter anyways."

She walked back over to where Harry and Ron were standing. Harry patted her back. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"It's not your fault," Hermione grumbled. The students began to file into the Greenhouse, and Hermione, unlike usual, was the last one in. She was in no mood to learn anything today.

* * *

"You're late, Granger," Malfoy sneered from his usual seat in the library. Normally, Hermione was waiting for him, but today she had been held back in Double Charms because someone had poked her in the ribs when she had been about to say the Edible Spell. This resulted in a loud screech and a giant, rampant buffalo running about the Charms room. Professor Flitwick managed to subdue the animal, but Hermione was, of course, left to clean up after it, and, to tell the truth, she was in no mood for Draco Malfoy. Not that she ever really was. 

"I was just about to leave," Malfoy continued, "because I'd rather be anywhere else at the moment, but I really do need to get my grade up."

"Thanks for the appreciation, Malfoy," Hermione muttered. "I'm taking time out of my busy schedule..."

"Busy schedule of what?" he scoffed. "Getting pushed around by your so-called friends?"

Hermione's head snapped up from where she had been rummaging in her bag for a quill. "What do you mean?"

"It's obvious, Granger, that they only hang out with you because of how, um, _smart_ you are," Malfoy said, with some difficulty."Why else would they?"

"Because I'm a good friend, maybe? Because they like me, maybe?" Hermione said, flustered.

"Sure, whatever you say, Granger," he replied. "Now, let's get on with this studying thing."

Hermione began asking him questions about Potions, but her mind was elsewhere. Was Malfoy right for a change? Did Harry and Ron, not to mention Ginny, Parvati, and Lavender, only want to be her friends because it was convienient for them? Or was Malfoy just trying to mess with her head?

_It's working_, Hermione thought.

"Are we done then?" Draco asked, boredly as she began to pack up her things. Hermione nodded. "Good. Wouldn't want to spend too much time with you. I might catch something."

Hermione stared at him, and suddenly, began laughing. Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"What is so funny, Granger?" he demanded, a regal tone in his voice.

"It's just, haha, the fact that, HA! you are the only person I know, hehehe, who doesn't ask things of me, HAHEHE, and I HATE YOU!" This had not been the answer Malfoy was expecting. Hermione was doubled over clutching her stomach, flushed full of giggles. Malfoy just raised an eyebrow.

"You're weird," was all he could bring himself to say, and to his dismay, this just made Hermione laugh harder. He shook his head and grabbed his bag, walking out of the library, leaving Hermione practically rolling on the floor.

* * *

Hermione couldn't sleep. She just lay in her bed, staring at the drawn curtain on her four poster bed. She was lying on her back, with her head turned to the left, and she knew she was going to get a crick in the morning for lying that way. She had been like that for hours. It was almost midnight. 

Her watch beeped. She had bewitched it to do so every hour on the hour. She had tried to get it to say the time, and not just beep it, but for some reason it didn't work. She had been meaning to ask Professor Flitwick about it, but never found the time. How ironic.

She swung her legs over the bed and heaved a great, pathectic sigh, hoping to wake up one of her dorm partners. They were fast asleep. Hermione stood up after a few moments of waiting in silence and looked out the window at the pale full moon. Full moons scared her. They reminded her of the night in third year when she, Ron, and Harry had gone into the Shreeking Shack and found Peter Pettigrew. When they had come out, Lupin had changed into a horrible werewolf. Hermione had been so scared. But Harry... he'd protected her and Ron had been there for her... He'd even held her hand when she screamed, though no one else had noticed. Those had been good days. Yes, they had been chased by a rabid werewolf, but Ron and Harry had been there for her. Where had they gone?

Hermione sniffed and grabbed her robe from the corner of her four poster bed. As she put it on, she looked around the dorm room, and cracked a smile. Everyone thought she was so organized, but when it came to actual cleaning, she was lazy. Clothes, robes, quills, magical instruments... they all lay strewn across the floor in a haphazard way. The only thing that was completely organized was her bookcase. All the books were in alphabetical order by last name of author, as they always should be. She took great pride in those books. They were her friends.

They weren't all class books, either, but they all had magic in them. Hermione walked over to examine the binds, touching each one delicately. _Alice in Wonderland. The Lost Years of Merlin. A Midsummer Night's Dream. The Lord of the Rings_. When she was little, Hermione had read these, and she would swear the characters were real people and the places real places, and the magic... well, she knew the magic was real now. She was a witch, after all.

Ah, _Peter Pan_. She pulled the hard back book off of the shelf and opened it, smelling the pages. They had a woody smell, all books did. She had tried to get Ron to read it, but he said he wasn't into stuff like that. He prefered fantasy. Hermione had laughed at that, because to him, fantasy was a book without magic. Harry had found it funny also. They had laughed together, and after a while, so had Ron. Why didn't they do that anymore? What had happened to her friends?

She sighed again and put the book back, exactly where it had been. As quietly as possible, she tiptoed out of the dorm and down the stairs. The stone floor was cold on her bare feet, but she hardly noticed. She had someone to see.

At exactly midnight every night, Dobby the House Elf cleaned the common room. She had met him, talked to him many times. As she crept downstairs, she found him, cleaning under one of the chairs. He looked so cute, scrambling to get at candy wrappers and broken quills and putting them all in a pile in the middle of the floor. Hermione stifled a giggle, but it was too late. He had heard her.

"Miss Hermione?" he called in his squeaky voice. She stepped out from the stairwell and gave him a warm smile.

"Hello, Dobby."

"What is wrong with Miss Hermione, I wonders," Dobby said. "She is out of bed very late, she is."

"I know, Dobby," Hermione replied, sitting down in one of the chairs. He jumped up to sit on the arm rest and talk with her, like he always did. "I couldn't sleep."

Dobby gave a shy, impish grin. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Dobby?"

"It is nothing, Miss Hermione," Dobby said. "Just that... well, when House Elves can't sleep, it is said, Miss Hermione, that someone is dreaming about them."

Hermione tilted her head and thought about that for a moment. "But who would dream about me?"

"It is said, Miss Hermione, that it must be someone who secretly cares about you, but could never, ever tell you." Dobby jumped off the arm rest. "Of course, it is only a superstition."

Hermione nodded, but silently wished that it wasn't just a supersition.

* * *

A/N: Just guess who's dreaming about her. Go on, just guess. Right, well, next chapter up soon. 


	3. Poems

_Chapter Three: Poems_

Hermione sat across the table at the library that afternoon like she always did, watching Draco struggling with a small quiz she had prepared for him. She was thinking about what had gone on that morning. She had asked every guy she knew if she had been in their dreams, which was probably not the smartest, subtlest way to go. Half of them thought she was weird (Harry and Ron included) and the other half thought she was flirting. Ernie MacMillian had asked her out because of it, the thought of which made her cringe. The point was, none of the boys would admit to having the dream. Who was she missing?

Malfoy let out a groan and slammed his head on the table. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Done, are we?"

Malfoy lifted his head up a little and glared. "I hate you."

Hermione stifled a laugh, and resumed her posture as the tutor. "Well, finish up then, so I can grade it."

Malfoy muttered something under his breath that sounded a little like, "Prudent little bitch," but Hermione ignored him. She was too busy thinking about her dilemma.

Suddenly, her mind drifted to something that could never be possible. But... he fit with what Dobby said... no, it couldn't be... But she might as well try, right?

"Malfoy, do you dream?" she asked. His eyes slowly lifted up from his paper and watched her warily.

"Yes," he said, slowly.

"What did you dream about last night?"

Malfoy's eyes flitted back to the paper, and he pretended to be working something out. "Nothing. I didn't dream last night."

"But you just said..."

"Once in a while, I dream, okay?" he snapped. "Not always."

Hermione quieted. After a few seconds of silence, Malfoy asked, "Why do you care?"

"No reason," Hermione lied, but Malfoy wouldn't fall for it.

"If there was no reason," he said, "you wouldn't have asked."

"I just... I couldn't sleep last night... and one of the House Elves told me it was because someone was dreaming about me..."

"And you're first logical choice was the Slytherin who hates you?" Malfoy asked, raising an eyebrow. Hermione realized how stupid she'd sounded.

"You're not the first one I asked, Malfoy," she snapped, defensively, but Malfoy continued.

"Although, I can see why you'd want it to be me," he said, cockily. "I mean, I am such a handsome, devonaire..."

Hermione laughed, harshly. "Please, Malfoy. I didn't actually _want_ it to be you. I was just wondering. Now, take your test."

"What if I don't want to? I find this much more amusing."

"Find what amusing?"

"The fact that the Gryffindor prefect has a crush on the Slytherin prefect."

"I do not!" Hermione yelled. Madame Pince looked over from the book counter, and Hermione blushed. Malfoy laughed.

"You're always getting me in trouble..." Hermione muttered.

"You're welcome."

"Do your paper," Hermione growled. Malfoy raised his hands.

"Touch-_ee_," he said, but resumed scribbling down answers. After a few minutes, he handed it over. "There, Granger. Grade it and let me get out of here."

"Fine," she said, snatching it. Her eyes fluttered quickly across the answers, and she got a pleasant surprise. "Not bad, Malfoy. Only missed two."

"Damn it!" he cursed. Hermione jumped.

"What? That's _good_, Malfoy."

"But I can't stop doing this until I get a hundred percent! It just means I need more sessions with... _you_."

"You're welcome, Malfoy," Hermione grumped. "I'm giving you my time, and you don't even want it. Why don't you take advantage of the tutor you have at your disposal?"

"Because I'm not one of your jerk-off friends."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione hissed dangerously.

"You know I'm right."

If Hermione had thought he'd been saying these things to help her, with that statement, those thoughts would have disappeared. She now knew without a doubt that Malfoy only kept bringing this up because he didn't want to be wrong. Unfortunately, Hermione wasn't sure that he _was_ wrong anymore.

"Aren't you going to tell me off?" he asked.

"No," Hermione replied, decidedly. He raised an eyebrow.

"Erm... why not?"

"Because, for once in your pitiful life, I think you're... I think you're right."

Malfoy stared at her, eyes wide. If anything, that had not been the answer he was expecting. He had nothing to reply to it. All he could muster was, "W-why?"

"Because you have a point. Ever since I met them, they've only been in the friendship for themselves. I mean, in first year, we only started being friends because I took the blame for going after that stupid mountain troll and gained them five house points for knocking the troll unconcsious..."

"Only five? That's a crime, those things are huge!" Malfyo said, seemingly interested, which was odd since he was talking to a Mudblood.

"That's was they said, but they didn't mind. Harry and Ron just loved the glory. And then, in second year, _I_ was the one who found the clues to the Chamber, _and_ found out what the basilisk was, _and_ figured out how to repel it's power, AND got petrified for it, but did I get any credit? No! It was all those two, and Ginny of course, but you can hardly blame her..."

"Of course we can blame her," Malfoy interrupted. "Scapegoating is fun."

Hermione ignored him. She really needed to rant. "And then in third year, when Harry got that awful broomstick, I thought it might be from Sirius Black, trying to hex him, so I gave it to McGonagall to strip it down, and make sure he wouldn't get hurt. I was only thinking of Harry's safety, but he cared more about the _broomstick_ that our friendship and got in a _fight_ with me because I wanted to _protect_ him! Tell me if that makes sense!"

"I don't think anything Potter's ever done has made sense," Malfoy pointed out, and again, Hermione pretended she hadn't heard him.

"And in fourth year, with the whole Viktor Krum thing, don't even get me started! Ron thinking I would just automatically go to the Ball with him, puh-_leese_! I _do_ have a life besides those two!"

"You do?"

This time Hermione really didn't hear him. She was growing quite flustered. "Finally, last year, with the whole summer vacation thing..."

"What summer vacation thing?"

"I mean I really couldn't tell him anything about the Order, could I? Not in letter. But, no, he gets so upset that I obeyed my freaking Head_master_..."

"_What_ summer vacation thing?"

"And that whole year he was in a pissy mood just because no one told him things that could have gotten us _killed_..."

"WHAT SUMMER VACATION THING?!"

"IF YOU'RE GOING TO YELL YOU CAN LEAVE RIGHT NOW, THIS IS A LIBRARY!" shouted Madame Pince from her desk. Hermione looked up and blushed furiously. She had forgotten they were still in the library. Then, she realized what she'd been saying, and to whom she'd been saying it, and it dawned on her that she could have said something secret about the Order to a Death Eater's son. She really had to get a grip on herself. She began to pack up her things.

"Where are you going?" Malfoy asked. "You still have to tutor me!"

"I... I have to go!" she said, and rushed from the library, out into the hallway.

She didn't know why she was running. She didn't even realize that she was running until she noticed the rhythmic echoes of her feet pounding the stone floor. She slowed down to a walk, and pulled her robes around her. It was getting chilly. December would be here soon. Christmas time. Usually her favorite time of year. She loved shopping for her friends' presents, but this year, she didn't know who to shop for. Were any of them really her friends anymore, or was it just as Malfoy said? Was she just their friend because she was smart?

She gave a sniff and held back tears as she slowed her pace. She heard the pounding of footsteps down the hallway. Someone was running towards her. She turned around and saw Malfoy running after her. She stopped for him, though she didn't know why. She didn't exactly want to talk to him, not after making a fool of herself like she had. And yet, she stood in the drafty hallway, waiting calmly for him as though it was the most natural thing in the world that he should come chasing after her.

Finally, he reached her. Panting and leaning on his knees, he held out her Potions book to her. "You... forgot... this..."

She raised her eyebrow skeptically, but took the book. "Why would you run all the way down here for that?"

"Because if.. my teacher... doesn't have her book... how is she to teach me?" He gave a lopsided sort of grin, still panting a bit.Hermione saw a look on his face that she had never seen before, but she couldn't place it. And then she realized... he looked _pleasant_. It was the first time he'd smiled, really smiled, not just smirked, that she'd ever seen. She rather liked it.

Hermione shook herself out of the trance, and folded her arms over her chest. "I can teach you from memory, you know, Malfoy," she grumped. He nodded.

"I know you can, but I, uh, just wanted to, uh, make sure you got it."

"Um... right. See you tomorrow, then."

"Right. Tomorrow."

Hermione turned around and briskly walked away, almost frightened of the awkward situation she had just encountered. When I get up to the dormitory, she vowed, I will write one thousand times, 'You must not think Malfoy's smile is nice.'

Unfortunately, that resolution would have to wait. When she reached her dormitory, Lavender and Parvati were out as usual. She flung her books and bag on her bed. Out of her Potions book dropped a peice of parchment. She picked it up, delicately, wondering who had put it there. She never left parchment in her books. She read it over once, and then twice again, marvelling at the words. And then she realized who had put it there. The only person who had touched her book that day besides her.

_"Hold fast to dreams,  
For if dreams die,  
Life is a broken-winged bird,  
That cannot fly._

_Hold fast to dreams,  
For if dreams go,  
Life is a barren field,  
Frozen with snow"  
-Langston Hughes_

_I lied about not having a dream last night, but I didn't dream of you. I dreamed of who you could be if you held fast to your own dreams. Never let them die._

_Signed,  
Someone Who Knows_.

The only one who had a chance to scribble down those beautiful words...

Was Malfoy.

* * *

A/N: Bet you didn't see THAT one coming. (cough, cough) Oh, how I love Malfoy. That's one of my favorite poems, too. I have it mezmorized (no, not memorized, _mez_morized.) So... yeah, R&R and the next chapter should be up soon, as soon as I, ya know... write it. :-D. 


	4. Conversations

_Chapter Four: Conversations_

"Why don't you call me Hermione?"

Hermione had been thinking about this for a while, ever since she'd gotten his note. He'd never once called her Hermione. She really wanted to ask him about that poem, but didn't think he'd admit that he'd written it. After all, he hadn't even signed his name. Just _Someone Who Knows_. How did he know not to let go of your dreams, anyways?

Malfoy looked up from yet another quiz and stared at Hermione a few seconds before answering. "Because I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"Why do you hate me, then?" Hermione asked.

"Because you're a Mudbl-" He caught himself by looking at her scowling face. "Er, I mean, Muggleborn."

"So?"

"What do you mean, 'so?'"

"Well, why does being a Muggleborn have anything to do with your friendships?"

"We wouldn't be friends even if you were pureblood, Granger."

"Why not?"

"Because you're in Gryffindor."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Malfoy's gaze fell instantly back to his test. He was pretending to read a question on the quiz, but Hermione knew he was faking. His eyes weren't moving along the page at all. He was just staring at it.

"What is it?" she asked, almost in a whisper. Malfoy slowly looked up at her. She sounded funny. He'd never heard her voice sound so delicate, as though she was trying not to break him. Suddenly she leaned back, and pouted. "You don't have to look as though you're going to bite my head off."

Malfoy realized he'd been scowling. He quickly shook the expression from his face, and went back to his test. Hermione snatched it from him and crumpled it up, angrily.

"Will you answer me, please?" All the gentleness was gone from her voice. Now she sounded flustered and angry. Malfoy wondered what he'd done this time, but realized that she wasn't only mad at him. She was angry at herself, as well, for some reason.

"I don't _know_ the answer," he said.

"Would you leave a questionon a test blank or try your best?"

"Not everything relates to school, Granger."

"HERMIONE!" she cried, standing up quickly. "Why won't you call me Hermione? It's my name, damn you. Call me _Hermione_!"

"You don't call me Draco, do you?" Malfoy demanded, now getting angry himself. "No! Now don't yell at me for calling you what I've always called you. Granger is as much your name as Hermione. Now, would you sit down and teach me... whatever it is I'm supposed to be learning?"

Hermione's mouth flailed a little bit, but she could find nothing to say to that that wouldn't make her sound like a complete moron, so she sat down. She took a few deep breaths, and calmed herself down. "You know what? _You_ teach _me_."

"What?"

"You teach me. I have things to learn, and I don't know them yet."

"Teach you about _Potions_?"

"No," she said. "About you."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "'Scuse me?"

"You're fascinating," Hermione replied, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I want to know how your mind works."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione sighed. "I want to know your story. About you're life."

Malfoy was about to tell her to go get her own life, if she wanted to hear about one so badly, but he knew she wasn't going to let this slide. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. He gave a sigh of his own, and asked, "Where do you want me to begin?"

"At the beginning."

* * *

A/n: Oh, yes, I am evil, aren't I? Short chapter, I know, but the next one will be much longer, I promise, and go through Draco's life, since we don't get to see that much of it in the books. I swear it won't be a cliche "Oh yes, my Dad abused me" sort of thing, but it may take me a while to write. R&R perdy pwease!


	5. Draco

_Chapter Five: Draco_

Malfoy grew a mischevious smile as he answered. "Well, I was born at a very young age..."

Hermione groaned. "Oh, come on. At least be original."

He sighed. "Fine, fine, fine. I was born in New York."

"New York _City_?"

"No, just the state. A little town called Strawberry Fields."

"How very _Little House on the Prairie_."

"What?" he asked, not recognizing the Muggle book.

"Nevermind. Go on."

"My mum was British, so was my dad, but they met at Columbia College."

"You're parents went to a Muggle college?" Hermione asked, incredulously.

"There aren't any wizarding universities or colleges. And my parents both wanted to learn about Muggles."

"I thought they hated Muggles."

"They do, now anyways."

"Why did it change?"

Draco normally would have gotten annoyed with someone asking him all these questions about his family, but for some reason Hermione didnt bother him. He looked thoughtfully at her. "Well, I think my father fell in love with a Muggle girl in college and she, I dunno, hurt him or something, and he started hating them. So, he and my mum married and had me and moved to Strawberry. When I turned three, we moved back to England. And then I went to Hogwarts and became a prefect and began failing Potions, and here I am."

But Hermione wasn't finished. "You said you're father fell in love, but he married your mum. Does he love her?"

"No," Draco said, instantly. For most people, this would be a tough question, but not for him. He'd know it since the day he was born. Narcissa Malfoy was only there for the sake of Lucius having a wife.

"Do you know why?"

"I'm sixteen," Draco said. "I don't know anything."

"Well, why do you think he doesn't love her, then?"

Draco sighed. "I think my father lost all his feelings for humanity when the Muggle woman broke his heart. He only does things if there's a purpose, not because he feels for it, or has a passion for it. He married my mother because he needed a wife. He had me because he needed an heir. He built our house because we needed a roof. He made it into a mansion because we needed to look important. It's all appearances with him."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, is it all appearances with you?" Up until a week ago, Hermione wouldn't have even had to ask that question. She would have known the answer was yes. Now, she wasn't so sure. He _was_ talking to her, a Muggleborn, after all.

"No, not really. I act like it is for a very good reason." He paused for a second, reflecting, but then continued. "My father never explicitly told me not to be friends with Muggleborns or Gryffindors or Dumbledore's allies, but I've always known he didn't want me to. And I don't want to disappoint him."

"No one wants to disappoint their father, Draco," Hermione murmured. He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

"You called me Draco," he told her. "I hope you know that."

"Yes, I knew that," she said, briskly, sounding a bit hurt. "I did ask you to tell me about your life, and not to call you Draco after that would be a little silly, don't you think?"

"Yes... I suppose so... Where was I?"

Hermione decided to change the subject to something a little lighter on the emotions. "Why did you move back to England when you were three? Just to go to Hogwarts?"

Draco laughed. "Actually, when I was three, I started to talk. Dad and Mum knew I was going to Hogwarts when I was older and they didn't want me to grow up with a weird accent at school."

Hermione laughed, too. "They thought you'd be teased?"

"They thought they'd be teased."

"Oh, I see," Hermione muttered. "Did both your parents go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, but my father was two years ahead of her, a Slytherin, and she was a Ravenclaw. They never spoke."

"You're mother was a Ravenclaw? I didn't know that."

"That's how it is in my family," Draco said. "You can marry a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw and be in Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but Slytherin is prefered. I'm not exactly sure why."

"Maybe it's the image of being shrewd and cunning."

"Or maybe it's because we like to think we're elite, or something," Draco sighed. "It all goes back to appearances. I hate having the appearance that I do. I hate being in Slytherin."

"But, you bragged about it on the train in first year," Hermione remembered. "About how you knew you were going to be in Slytherin, and it was the best house anyways, and only purebloods could get in and..."

"Have you seen the people in my house?" Draco demanded. "They're morons! Crabbe and Goyle are as thick aspoles, and don't even get me started on the girls, one of which I'm supposed to _marry_ when I get older! I mean, Milicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson? Please! They look like dogs, and I'm not talking French poodles."

Hermione giggled a little, and put her hand over her mouth. She didn't want to offend him, but he cracked a smile at her, and asked, "Anything else you want to know, Miss Inquisitve?"

"A few things. Why do you hate Harry?"

"Because he's a cocky, arrogant, son of a..."

"Okay, stop there," Hermione said, holding up a hand. "Harry is not _arrogant_, he hates being a hero!"

"And yet, he still manages to find a way to do it."

"Well, who else is going to help people? If he doesn't, who will?" Draco looked at the ground. Hermione gave a soft smile. "You don't hate him because he's arrogant. You don't like him because he's better at things than you."

"I'll admit, that's part of it," Draco said. "But the other part is that he... well... this is going to sound stupid."

"No, it won't."

"It's because he wouldn't shake my hand on the train in first year, when I told him I could help him find good friends."

Hermione stared at him. "I stand corrected," she admitted. "That _does_ sound stupid."

"Fine, then," Draco grumped, folding his arms across his chest. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes, just one thing," Hermione said, and paused. It was a rather tough question. Draco noted the somber look that came across her face and braced himself. "Did your... Has your father ever, you know... hurt you?"

"Not physically," Draco said, drawing out the answer. "I mean, emotionally, I always feel like I'm less than whatever he wants me to be. I mean, he was Head Boy, he never failed Potions, he was popular, especially with girls. Me, I'm... not. And he reminds me every time he looks at me. Erm... why to you ask?"

"I don't know..." Hermione whispered. "I've met Lucius, and he seems the, uh, _type_."

"There's a type to beat children?"

"There's a type for just about everything."

"Is there a type for me?" Draco asked, with a confident smile. Hermione grinned.

"You break the mold."

* * *

A/N: YAY! THEY'RE TALKING! Oh, wait, I made them talk... hmmm... And, by request (even though I wasn't going to do it, but it's a good idea) I'm going to have Hermione's life on here, too. And,I have a non-cliche way to do it, too! HOORAH!

Thanks for all your reviews! They all encourage me so much! Next chapter up soon!


	6. A Christmas Snow

A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to update, but I had a little writer's block going on. You're going to hate me by the end of this chapter, I guarentee it. . Don't worry. The Draco/Hermione ship will prevail! Patience, grasshopper. Thanks to all my reviewers. You guys are great. Enjoy.

* * *

_Chapter Six: A Christmas Snow_

Hogsmeade was cold. That's about all the Hermione was thinking about. Her fingers were numb, even with her red gloves that Mrs. Weasley had knitted her the year before for Christmas. They were usually enough to keep out the chill, but the wind was biting especially hard today. Perhaps because there was no one there beside her.

Harry and Ron were "getting her apresent." At least that's what they told her, but she had seen them enter Zonko's, which didn't exactly stock the types of things she'd want for Christmas. They told her they'd meet up with her at noon in the Three Broomsticks for butter beers and lunch, but the more Hermione thought about it, the more she didn't want to go.

She began to make her way to the top of the hill where the Shrieking Shack stood. She stood at the top of the hill and looked down onto the small village, and it looked trapped in time, like something out of one of her story books. Magical, yet almost normal. Like any other town could have taken it's place and it wouldn't have made a difference at all. Maybe it was the snow. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the truth. Hermione didn't know. And, quite frankly, she didn't care.

After a moment, she noticed a person walking up the path to where she was standing. Blonde, and with blue eyes cutting through the swirling snow. She stood with a smile, waiting for Draco to meet her.

His trek was not exactly easy, but he made it with a wide grin on his face that Hermione had grown accustomed to seeing, and loving. There were perfect snowflakes stuck on his hair that fell into his eyes, which were twinkling mischeviously. She looked at him skeptically.

"What are you up to?" she asked, and he laughed.

"Nothing bad," he said, cheerily. "Can't a guy just be happy? I mean, it's almost Christmas."

"True," Hermione agreed, "but you don't seem the type to enjoy Christmas."

"I am when I've just found the perfect present for a certain witch."

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "You got me a present?

"Yep."

"Can I see it?"

"Nope."

"Oh come on!" she cried.

"You have to wait until Christmas!" he said, shaking his gloved finger at her.

"Please, please, please, please, please!" she pleaded. "I want to see it, pretty please?"

"Who would have thought that I could lower the leading witch in our class to begging in a matter of minutes?" Draco said, thoughtfully. He reached behind him and pulled a small package out of the bag he was carrying. "All right, you can open it. But don't expect another one for Christmas morning, all right?"

Hermione took the package excitedly, and carefully opened the wrapping. She opened the little white box that came out of the paper, and was alarmed to see a beautiful golden charm in the shape of an otter.

"An otter?" she asked, quizzically. "Why an otter?"

"That's your Patronus, right?" he asked, worriedly. "I asked Cho Chang, but she might have gotten it wrong..."

"Oh, yes, you're right, it is," Hermione said, quickly. "I love it, Draco. It's wonderful."

He smiled warmly, but it began to fade as he noticed the sadness lingering on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I just... didn't get you anything. And it seems really expensive, and I just... feel really bad for accepting it..."

"Don't, please. You've given me more than you know. I don't need a present. And it wasn't too expensive, really. I can afford it, I swear."

"But it's gold," Hermione noted. It seemed a little serious for her liking. Like something a boyfriend would buy for his girlfriend. And she and Draco had only just become friends.

"Think of it as a token of my gratitude for helping me pass that Potions test we had last week, okay?" Draco smiled at her and Hermione couldn't help but smile back.

"All right. Fine. But at least let me buy something for you."

"I'd rather you didn't really," Draco said. "I don't really want anything for Christmas except..."

"What?" Hermione pressed curiously. Draco shrugged and looked up at the sky, the swirling snow falling onto his cheek flushed from the cold.

"Something you can't give me, Hermione," he said. "Something I don't think anyone can give me."

Hermione sensed that it wouldn't be wise to press the matter any further, and tilted her head up so she could look at the falling snow with him. The sky was filled with gray clouds, the same color as the snow. She couldn't see the flakes until they were right in front of her nose. A lot of things worked like that.

"It's pretty," Hermione said, her voice just a breath.

"Not compared to what I see," Draco said. Hermione looked at him to see that he was no longer looking up, but at her. She blushed.

"You know how corny that was?" she asked.

He touched her blushing cheek and said, "Yes. But it worked."

They looked at each other, directly in the eyes, and if it had been possible to melt in that weather, Hermione would have. His face was only half an inch away from hers, his breath smelling like peppermint. She wondered what the last thing she had eaten was.

After a few seconds, Draco grabbed her hand and looked at it. "Hermione, I don't know how to tell you this..."

"I know, Draco, I feel the same."

"No,not that. And you don't feel the same. Believe me."

"How do you know?"

"Because... you haven't done what I have. You haven't been there, Hermione. You haven't."

"What are you talking about?"

"I can't tell you. I've got to go."

Hermione had been left out in the cold by her friends more times than she could count that year. But this was the first time that it had been literal.

* * *

A/N: Told you you'd hate me. :P R&R, pretty please. Oh, and happy holidays. 


	7. Advice

A.N. - Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up. I'm currently working on some fics for other fandoms and haven't had time to finish this chapter. Oh, and I'm sorry about the angst ahead of time. Enjoy!

* * *

_Chapter Seven: Advice_

_He's avoiding me._

The thought made her angry. It made her sad. But most of all it made her lonely. She had worn the charm on a bracelet everyday, but if she looked at it, that thought would run through her head. As a matter of fact, that thought ran through her head even when she didn't look at the charm. It didn't really run through her head, either. It just sort of stayed there, a constant reminder of what she once had. What she had screwed up.

_Just like everything else._

Hermione rose swiftly from the table and stormed out of the Dining Hall, ignoring the curious glances and calls of her name by Harry and Ron. Ginny didn't even look up as she past her cluster of friends, which was the norm nowadays. Parvati had stopped speaking to her all together, and Lavender only when Parvati wasn't around. Draco had been her only friend. Maybe he'd been more... She didn't know, and Hermione didn't like thinking about it.

The Great Hall was cold and desolate. Everyone was eating dinner, like she should have been. There was no one there, which was appropriate as Hermione had never been so alone.

The Hall seemed so dark. It was six o'clock, no sunlight streaming through the windows. The only lights were the flickering torches, the only sounds were Hermione's catching breaths. She stood frozen in one spot, unable to walk towards the stairs, to her dorm. She stood at the doors to the Great Hall, wondering how much strength it would take to open the doors manually. Wondering how far she could run. There was nothing for her here.

Nothing but someone she'd already lost.

_What did I do?_ she asked herself. _What happened to our friendsip? Was I that naive to think that he could ever feel the same?_

_Stop it, Hermione, get over it, its done._

But it wasn't. Maybe it wasn't done. He might have seen her go. He might be coming after her right now. She'd wait for him. Wait for his hand to touch her shoulder and spin her around. She'd wait for him to hold her, whisper in her ear that it would be okay. That she was forgiven for whatever she'd done. That he would never leave again.

"Hermione?" said a voice behind her. She turned around eagerly, praying that it was him. But it wasn't. There was no one but the stones. The voice had been a phantom of a hope that would never come true.

She'd been heartbroken before, what girl hadn't. But at that moment when she realized he wasn't coming... her heart died.

* * *

"Miss Granger, please stay after class," Snape said in his cold drawl, not looking up from the potions he was grading. She obliged at the rest of the class filed past her. The Gryffindors gave her supportive looks while the Slytherins shot her sneers. The only person not to look at her was Draco. 

When all the students were gone, Snape finally looked up. "Miss Granger, I have noticed young Draco's falling grades in my class. He had been doing well. May I ask why your study methods have failed him?"

"We... haven't been having the tutoring sessions, Professor," Hermione gulped, not looking at him. Lord knows she had sat in the library or the dungeon classroom for hours waiting for him. He never showed. Not that Snape would believe that.

"I suspected as much."

If Hermione had been expecting Snape to say anything, that wasn't it. Maybe a reprimand at the least, but just a calm sigh of his suspections? Not in the least. Before Hermione could question it, he went on.

"Draco's not like the other Slytherins, Miss Granger," he said. "He has a lot of history. I assume you found out about it and thought less of him."

"Actually, sir, he wouldn't tell me anything," Hermione said. "I think..."

"What do you think?" Snape asked. Hermione looked at him, wondering what her life had come to. Obsessed with a Slytherin and spilling her heart out to Snape. Will the irony never cease?

"I think he was scared that I would find out about... whatever 'history' he has," she said. "I wouldn't have thought less of him, Professor. As a matter of fact... I've grown to appreciate him."

"I see," was all he said. "Have you spoken to him at all in the last few weeks?"

"None, sir," Hermione admitted, looking shame-faced at the floor.

"Perhaps you should," Snape said, simply, and turned and walked into his office without another word.


	8. Freezing

A.N. - Okay, this is a short chapter, but I have a longer one in the works, so it should only be a few days before the next one's up! And don't worry, the angst shall be over soon! haha. This is a new type: Draco perspective. (I know, shock, surprise, right?) Enjoy! R&R please.

* * *

_Chapter Eight: Freezing_

Draco stared off into space, waiting for the snow to fall.

He used to wait for the snow to fall when he was little and it was summer, because he liked winter the best of all seasons. He would sit in his room and stare out his large, bay window for hours on end. His mother would walk up behind him and ask him what he was doing, and he would tell her. She would laugh at him, merrily, happily. These were the days when his mother could still be happy. Now, there was no joy in her eyes, no laughter in her voice. She was desolate.

He had tried to reach her. Tell her he knew what his father did, that he had never really loved her, and tell her that Draco would love her no matter what his father said. Narcissa never listened. She had become someone like Lucius, someone who only cared about appearances. She was so wrapped up in organizing parties for the Minister, or attending political events.

Draco vaguely remembered his father laughing once. Draco had walked in to the kitchen with mud all over him from the gardens, and had decided it would be fun to draw mud art on the walls. Lucius and Narcissa had found him and as Narcissa scolded him, Lucius found it extremely funny. Not the scolding, but the mud drawings, Draco was sure, or at least liked to hope.

That was perhaps the only time Lucius had even really smiled, and Draco had learned from that example. He never smiled either, not anymore, only sneered and glared and did other nasty things. Unless he was with Hermione...

"Don't think about that!" he told himself aloud, but he knew he had to think about her sometime.

Why had he left her up on the hill top standing in the snow? Not even he totally new the answer. It wasn't that he was too good for her, or vice versa. They're hands fit together much too perfectly for that. It might have been that he was scared to start feeling that way about someone that he normally hated. But it was most likely that he had lied to her.

She would hate him... he knew she would. He had told her about his horrible life, with his father and his mother not paying enough attention to him... that part was true. What wasn't true... was why.

Lucius Malfoy did care about appearances, he always had, but for a while, Draco had been the perfect son. He did everything right, he was a good mirage. But then Draco screwed up everything his father had worked for. That's why Lucius didn't love him.

Draco had killed a Muggle.

Although Lucius Malfoy did not approve of Muggles, he wanted everyone to think he did. On that cold night in February when Draco had accidentally blown up a water pipe on the streets of London and killed a Muggle man in the street. The Muggle newspapers had said a pipe had frozen and shattered, but Lucius's political enemies knew the truth. His son had done it. They picked Draco apart for a year, and consequently lost Lucius a lot of power that took him years to gain back.

Draco had not meant to kill the Muggle. His magic had gotten away from him, his anger had betrayed him. He had been so young, unable to control himself or his impulses. But Lucius didn't know that, nor would he have cared. The fact was, his son had hurt him, and the only thing that could fix that was showing his disapproval in public as much as he could.

For years Draco had wanted to get it off his chest that he had murdered someone. The talk had died down years ago when Lucius regained most of his political standing and was able to silence it. None of the kids at school were old enough to read the newspaper at the time. No one knew about it, except Draco, and he desperately wanted to tell someone. To tell Hermione.

But if Draco told Hermione that... Lord only knew what she would do. Hate him. Never speak to him again.

"That's the way of the world, Draco," he muttered to himself in the darkness of his common room. "Everything freezes, everything fades."

He let out a sigh and turned away from the window just as a single snowflake fell.


	9. Confession is Good for the Heart

_Chapter Nine: Confessions is Good for the Heart_

Hermione couldn't believe that she was taking advice from _Snape_ of all people, let alone that she was pulling Malfoy from his class by the orders of "The Headmaster."

"Professor Flitwick?" Hermione said, shyly, opening the door. All heads swung towards her, except a blonde one that continued scribbling on a piece of parchement.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" the tiny professor said, excitedly, almost falling off his stack of books.

"Um, the Headmaster would like to speak with Mr. Malfoy, please, sir," she told him. Malfoy's head finally lifted, and for the first time in two long weeks, he looked her in the eye.

"Of course, of course, off you get, Mr. Malfoy!" Professor Flitwick shooed him out of the classroom and shut the door behind both of them.

Draco instantly began walking in the general direction of Dumbledore's office, but Hermione stopped him by grabbing his elbow. His arm went limp in her hold.

"The Headmaster didn't actually want to see you, Draco," Hermione whispered.

"I was afraid of that," Draco sighed, and turned back towards her. "What do you want?"

"What do you think I want?" Hermione demanded. All the hurt that she had felt was rising to the surface and instead of crying like she thought she might have, she was getting angry.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else to talk..."

"Or maybe I want some damn answers now!" she shouted. Draco looked around worriedly.

"Look, someone's going to hear us and then we'll both be in trouble," he reasoned. "Let's go up to the Astronomy Tower. It's never used in the daytime."

Hermione began to argue, but saw his point. "All right, fine."

They walked as silently and quickly as possible, praying that they wouldn't run into a ghost or a wandering teacher, or worse, Filch or his cat. Thankfully, as the Charms room was relatively close to the Astronomy tower stairs, their walk was pretty uneventful. They begant heir descent up the stairs, and as soon as they were out of sight of the bottom of the stairs, Hermione started speaking.

"I want to know what's wrong with you," she said. Draco looked at her as they continued climbing.

"More than you know, Hermione," he said, and Hermione was surprised at how nice it was to hear him say her name again.

"What did I do?" she asked, calmer this time.

"You think you did something?" Draco laughed a little bit. "No, you didn't do anything."

"Then why did you stop talking to me? I had to have done something."

"Did you ever think maybe I did something?" Draco said, lovingly, looking at her with the kindest eyes she'd ever seen. It was like he was looking at a child that had just done something incredibly innocent. It was almost... _adoring_.

"But you didn't," Hermione said, feeling very confused. "You didn't do anything to me. All you did was give me that charm and I..."

"You're wearing it," Draco observed, feeling somehow satisfied at the realization. Hermione nodded, and began fiddling with it on its chain.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, for one thing, you used to hate me. I'd only assumed you didn't like it, or didn't like me."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Hermione admonished, briskly.

"I guess I'm ridiculous then, huh?" He gave her a sideways smirk as he opened the hatch to the top of the tower. The sunlight flew into their eyes, but Draco's adjusted almost instantly despite the dim torchlight in the stairwell. He grabbed Hermione's hand and lead her into the sunshine, since she was having a harder time seeing.

As soon as she wasn't blind, she continued the conversation and found that Draco had turned away from her. "All this still doesn't explain why you've been avoiding me."

"No, it doesn't, does it?"

"Draco," she warned, and he sighed.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Thought I made that obvious."

"True." Draco sighed again and composed himself. "I wasn't avoiding you because of something you did, but something I didn't tell you."

"What do you mean?"

Draco looked at her over his shoulder. "I mean when I was telling you my life story I left out a relatively important part, if you catch my drift."

"Your dad does beat you!" Hermione exclaimed.

"What? No! You think I'd let him push me around like that? I'd have Avada-ed him by now." Hermione nodded. "This only has a little bit to do with my father."

"Well, spill it," Hermione said. "Are you afraid I'm going to think less of you or something?"

"Yes."

"I changed my mind. _That's_ the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Hermione said. "Tell me. I won't think of you any differently."

"I killed a Muggle!"

It hit Hermione's ears like whiplash. "W-what?" she stammered, almost falling backwards.

"Yes, I did. I killed a man, he was sitting on a stupid bench and I got mad and a water pipe under him exploded. I've killed someone, Hermione! I'm a murderer, all right? Are you happy now?"

Hermione touched his shoulder delicately. "Do you think this makes me happy?"

"I think it makes you hate me."

"It doesn't," she whispered. "It sounds like it was an accident, Draco. It wasn't your fault."

"But if I had controlled myself, none of it would have happened!"

"How old were you?"

"I was... I was eight."

"When I was eight I blew up my stove because my father sent me to my room," Hermione confessed. "Thankfully my mother and father were in the other room, or they would have been killed. It wasn't my fault, and this wasn't your fault. You were _eight_, Draco."

"Everyone else thought it was my fault," he said. "You weren't even there. How would you know if it was my fault?"

"Because I know you, and I know that sometimes magic is hard to control."

"My father didn't think it was an accident," Draco continued. "Neither did anyone else. All the newspapers and politicians and..."

"What made you mad?" Hermione interrupted.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"A lot. What made you mad, Draco?"

"My Dad's friend, I think," he said, trying hard to remember. "I was playing with his daughter, and he was talking to my father and she did something that he didn't like... and he hit her across the face. And that just made me mad."

"I would hope so," Hermione said. "It would make me mad, too. If you think about it though, it's your father's friend whose guilty of murder because he put you in a state of extreme emotional disturbance."

Draco looked at her blankly. "You have to stop reading."

Hermione laughed a little. "Yeah, I know. But don't you get it? It wasn't your fault!"

Draco turned around slowly and surprised Hermione. His eyelashes were laced with tears and his voice was choked and strained. "You have no idea how wonderful you are."

"Me? Wonderful? I don't think so."

Draco chuckled and slipped his arms around her waist. "You're naive, Hermione. And innocent. Everything is black and white to you. That's not how the world works."

"Oh, I'm naive, am I?"

"Yes, you are," Draco laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "But that's what I like about you. Sometimes the naive people are the ones with the most knowledge about reality."

He pulled his face away, so it was just an inch from hers, and stared at her with probing eyes. Hermione didn't feel uncomfortable at all. She was relaxed and warm, despite the chill in the winter weather. After a few moments, Draco lifter her chin with his thumb and forefinger and brought it to his own.

The kiss was gentle and caring. Each of them spilled their feelings into the other for what seemed like forever, and yet still felt too short. An instaneous eternity. It was in that moment that they both realized that they weren't alone anymore. There would always be someone there to hold them.

As Draco pulled away, his lip was quivering with a smile. Hermione's eyes shifted in and out of focus. She fell into his chest and he rocked her back and forth, running his left hand through her hair and keeping the right on the small of her back. Neither of them spoke. They both knew that sometimes the most profound things must come from silence.

And what is more profound than love?

* * *

A.N. - Well, that should suit all your D/Hr needs for now! (until the next chapter that is!) In the meantime, I want to thank all my reviewers so much! You guys are so amazing, keeping me motivated and giving me ideas.So, keep doing what you're doing, you are more awesome than you know. Thanks again! Next chapter up pretty soon! (leave me some ideas though, because I'm a bit stuck :-/) 


	10. Friendships

AN: Well, writer's block has plagued me for the last couple of days, so I've been bad about updating... bad Scribble! bad! but here's the next chapter. I hope you all like it! I think the chapters are winding down here... probably three, maybe four more? But don't despair! That's still something! And I may change my mind and decide to write more than I thought I would. So, have fun, and review please!

* * *

_Chapter Ten: Friendships_

January was harsh and bitter outside the castle. The snow hardly stopped falling all month long. Hermione and Draco found refuge in the Room of Requirement, where they spent most of their breaks. They told no one where they went, not that they had anyone they really wanted to tell.

Hermione was caught up on the secret romance. Sneaking away to meet a forbidden love... it was what she had read about in the storybooks. It was romantic and dangerous at the same time. They had to work to be together. That's what Hermione had always wanted.

As January drifted into February, the weather subtled. It still snowed, but lightly now, and the wind was not so harsh. On the weekends, Hermione and Draco took to wandering around the grounds together, sometimes drifting into the Forbidden Forest, sometimes just walking around the more desolate areas of the grounds where no one else went. Hermione always had a book open, though, so that if they were caught, they could say they were studying.

Draco didn't mind not being able to tell his friends about her. It wasn't as if any of them would have really cared at all. His father would, though. Falling in love with a Mudblood simply wasn't the proper image that Lucius had in mind. Draco would probably never tell him. He was just happy being around Hermione. He felt warm when he saw her and couldn't get her out of his head when she wasn't there.

But after a while, the sneaking, the secret meetings... they began to wear down on both of them. It was becoming harder and harder to hide everything. The excuses for not being around were running thin, and they grew tired of using them.

One day, Draco started to walk Hermione to her dormitory entrance. Hermione protested. "Someone will see us," she said.

"I don't care, Mione," Draco replied. "I really don't. Not anymore."

Hermione smiled, but there was doubt behind it. "I really don't... what if Harry and Ron..."

"Like I care about those two dimwits," Draco said. Hermione persed her lips.

"They're still my friends, Draco."

"They don't deserve to be your friends."

"Draco!"

"Well, it's true!" Draco said, then sighed. "Fine. You know what? Go be with your friends. I don't care. I'll see you."

He stomped down the hallway away from her Common Room.

"Don't get mad at me!" Hermione yelled after him.

"I'm not mad!" he called back, not even turning around. "See you."

Hermione sighed angrily and stormed off to the Common Room.

Harry and Ron were sitting in a corner with Ginny. The Common Room around them was bustling with people playing games and having fun. The three of them, however, seemed to be having a heated discussion of some sort. When Hermione entered, Ginny looked up. She dawned a smile and motioned for her to come over. Hermione considered ignoring her, but after the outburst with Draco about them still being friends, she would have felt guilty doing that. She weaved her way around the students to her friends.

"Hermione!" Ron cried. "We have seen you in ages!"

"That's silly, Ron, you know I'm in almost all of your classes."

"You know what he means, Mione," Ginny said. "You're never around anymore, and when you are, you hardly speak."

"You're daydreamy," Harry agreed.

"Daydreamy isn't a word," Hermione said, sitting down in the empty chair beside them. Crookshanks jumped into her lap, and she petted him abesentmindedly.

"Don't you change the subject!" Ginny said, sounding remarkably like Mrs. Weasley. "We miss you!"

"Look, we know we were jerks to you," Harry said, "but we want to make it up to you. Ron had a chat with Professor McGonagall..."

"...who had a chat with Dumbledore," Ron interrupted, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "And they both agree that life is getting much too dull around here lately. We haven't had a dance since fourth year..."

"Third year, for some of us," Giny agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

"Whatever. Point is, they want to have a Valentine's Day dance. You know, to liven things up. Take our minds off of exams and such..."

"But exams are ages away," Hermione said. They all stared at her with open mouths.

"Now we know something's wrong," Ron said finally. "You never take exams so lightly."

"Well, what does a dance have to do with solving anything?" Hermione said, shifting uncomfortably, causing Crookshanks to send her a look of annoyance.

"Well, we figured we could have, you know, a good time together. Just us four. Hanging out like we used to." Harry looked at her hopefully. "Please, Mione? Go with Ron. Ginny can go with me, and we'll have a great time!"

"We will! Please, Mione?" Ginny pleaded. Ron was looking at her with a goofy smile on his face, and Hermione laughed a little.

Harry grinned. "Is that a yes?"

"That's a yes."

Ginny squealed and launched herself at Hermione with a big hug. "Oh, thanks for forgiving us, Hermione! You don't know how bad we all felt!"

"Really, it's, erm, all right!" Hermione said, hugging her friend back. Ginny pulled away and smiled at her. "But um, Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"If I'm going with you... you can't wear those dress robes with the frays and things... those made you look like a hippie."

"Yeah, they did," Ron laughed. He and Harry stood up, giving Hermione hugs as they went by. They walked up to their dormitory. Hermione heard Ron ask Harry, "What's a hippie?"

"Doesn't matter. I'll buy you some dress robes, mate, good ones."

"No, really, I wanna know!"

"Really, Ron, it doesn't matter."

"Come on, please?"

"No!"

Hermione and Ginny giggled. "Those two..."

"You didn't have to live with one of them for fifteen years," Ginny said. She stood up and stretched with a yawn. "Time for me to get to bed. It's good to have you back, Hermione."

"Yeah," Hermione sighed, sinking lower in her chair. "It is good."

* * *

AN: in a strange voice _You want to review! You want to review! You want to re-_ Aw, screw it. Subliminal messages never did work for me. Please review! Tell me what you think!


	11. Love

A/N: I am soooooooo sorry that this has taken so long to come up! Total writer's block for this chapter. But I finally buckled down and wrote it, so you should all be proud of me! Enjoy! And don't forget to RR, pretty please!

* * *

_Chapter Eleven: Love_

_Have you ever loved somebody so much it makes you cry?  
Have you ever needed something so bad you can't sleep at night?  
Have you ever tried to find the words but they don't come out right?  
Have you ever?  
Have you ever been in love, been in love so bad,  
You'd do anything to make them understand?  
Have you ever had someone steal your heart away?  
You'd give anything to make them feel the same,  
Have you ever searched for words to get you in their heart,  
But you dont know what to say and you dont know where to start?  
_-Have You Ever by Brandy

Draco stared at Hermione from across the dance. She caught his eye and sent him a small smile. He smiled back.

At first, he'd been a little disappointed that she was going with Ron and not him, but he saw the logic behind it. They couldn't exactly go together, as they were supposed to hate each other. He wasn't bitter, and didn't particularly mind. Except...

"Drakey-Poo!"

Draco cringed. Except the fact that he had been forced to go with Pansy Parkinson.

She clung to his arm. "Drakey, are you having fun? I'm having fun! The Great Hall looks beautiful, doesn't it? Look at all the lights they strung up!"

_It's like a cat with shiny objects_, Draco thought, cringing a little bit at Pansy's shreiking voice.

"Look how darling everyone looks. Hello, Milicent, darling, you look wonderful! How do I look, Draco? You haven't said one thing about my new earings."

"Um... they're nice?" Draco said, uncertainly, but inside he was asking: _She has her ears peirced? When did that happen?_ "I'm going to get you some punch. Over _there_."

He pointed to the table farthest away from her. Pansy giggled. "Oh, that's so sweet, Draco! But there's a table right over here why don't you..."

But he was already gone.

"Man, that was painful from over here," said an older Ravenclaw, to whom Draco was distantly related. Darren Cleets grinned at him and handed him a cup full of punch. Draco downed it like a shot.

"It's times like those I wish we were allowed to have alcohol and sedatives," Draco agreed. Darren laughed.

"At least you have a date, man," he said. "I'm stuck handing out punch."

"Wanna trade?"

"I love you because you're my cousin and all, but not that much."

Draco shrugged. He'd have said the same thing.

Hermione walked to the table and Darren handed her a glass of the punch. Draco looked at her sideways and whispered out of the corner of his mouth, "Am I allowed to acknowledge that you walked up?"

Hermione laughed. "Of course. How are you doing?"

"It's hell."

Hermione looked sympathectic, and guilty all at the same time. "I'm sorry you're not having more fun. I shouldn't have made you come."

"That's all right, I don't blame you," Draco shrugged, and it was half true.

"What time is it?" she asked, suddenly.

"Hm? Oh," Draco looked at the wrist watch he wore under his sleeve. "It's eight thirty. We still have an hour and a half."

"Do you want to skip out at nine?" Hermione asked.

"Not if you're having fun with your friends."

"I am, but we can do that any time," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's Valentine's Day and I want to spend at least part of it with you. Don't worry about Ron and Harry and Ginny."

Draco grinned. "All right. Great. Meet you in the small courtyard at nine, okay?"

Hermione smiled back and nodded. "See you then."

Draco turned back to the table as she walked away and saw Darren staring at him with a coy smile. Draco's mouth fell open. "It's not what you think."

"Oh?" Darren said simply, then he laughed. "Look, man, I'm not going to tell anybody. I think it's cute."

"Don't ever say the word 'cute' again," Draco said. "It makes me question a few things about you."

Darren laughed again. "Done. But why didn't you tell anybody about you and Granger?"

"I thought that would be obvious."

"True, but you've said more than once that I was a moron. You'll have to spell it out for me."

Draco sighed. "I don't know why I didn't tell anyone. She's worried that her friends will stop hanging out with her, I'm afraid my father will disown me. And it didn't seem very important at the time."

"To tell people about your girlfriend?"

"Well... yes."

"Wow."

"Shut up. Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"You know very well what!" Draco said. "Don't look at me like I should have done something different." Darren opened his mouth, but Draco stopped him. "And don't tell me exactly what you would have done. I don't care. Hermione and I are happy. We don't mind this."

"Don't you?" was all Darren said. Draco looked down. Darren sighed and his normally ever-present grin sobered. "Look, do you love her?"

"Yes."

"Then I don't see why you're hiding it."

Draco nodded slowly, refusing to look at his cousin. He did love her. If he couldn't tell other people that, how could he be so sure about it though? Did he only love her if they were the only two that new about it? That wasn't love. That was selfish.

"All right. I get it."

Draco set down his cup on the table, and weaved his way through the crowd of people. Darren gave a whoop of encouragement, but Draco barely noticed. People basically moved out of his way. He soon reached where Hermione and he friends were standing. Without thinking, and with an insult half-left Ron's lips, he spun Hermione around and kissed her.

Hermione pulled away almost instantly. "What the..." she stuttered.

Draco was about to answer when a punch hit him in the jaw and he fell to the ground.

"What the hell!" Ron shouted, standing over him. "What was that all about? Are you just trying to ruin Hermione's Valentine's Day?"

"I love Hermione, you asshole."


	12. Let Her Cry

_Chapter Twelve: Let Her Cry_

"Let her cry if the tears fall down like rain,  
Let her sing if it eases all her pain,  
Let her go, let her walk right out on me,  
And if the sun comes up tomorrow, let her be."  
_-Let Her Cry_, Hootie and the Blowfish.

"You what?" Ron sputtered.

"You what?" Hermione repeated, weakly.

"I love you, Hermione," Draco said again, ignoring Ron, Harry, and Ginny. Harry and Ron both looked as though they were going to pounce on him. Ginny, however, was watching him thoughtfully.

Draco picked himself up from where Ron had hit him to the ground and rubbed his jaw a bit. "You've got a nice right hook there, Weasley. Maybe I underestimated you."

Ron didn't reply. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but Harry was.

"Why don't you just get the hell away from us, Malfoy?" he said forcefully. Draco sighed.

"I thought I'd explained that already, Potter," he said. "I love Hermione. Do try to pay attention."

"Please stop saying that," Hermione whispered. No one heard her.

"How did all this come about?" Ginny said, much calmer than her brother and Harry.

"Well, it all started when she was giving me tutoring lessons for Potions..."

"I knew it!" Ron shouted. "I knew no good could come of that!"

"That wasn't the only thing that started it," Draco hissed. "You guys sort of brought us together, as much as you probably dislike hearing it."

"Um... no. No, see, we'd never do that," Harry said.

"Not directly of course," Draco said. "It's not as if you owled me, asking very politely for me to fall in love with your best friend."

"Please stop saying that," Hermione said, a little louder now. Draco looked at her.

"Say what, Mione?"

"Don't call her that!" Harry and Ron yelled at the same time.

"It's her name," Ginny said.

"B-but..." Ron stuttered, pathectically. "Oh, man, this blows."

"Shut up, Ron," Ginny said. "I think it's sweet."

"I don't like it," Harry said. "But it depends on Hermione, I guess..."

Draco turned to Hermione, a smile of grim satisfaction. Despite getting a punch in the jaw, he'd come out unscathed. He'd thought they'd _Avada_ him on the spot. But Hermione was looking at the ground, either thought or anger on her face. Draco looked puzzled and lifted up her chin.

"Is something wrong, love?"

"Please stop saying we're in love," Hermione said. Draco finally heard her.

"But, I do love you."

"You don't know that. Please. I'm not ready to be in love. I care about you. But love? We're only sixteen Draco."

"You're point being...?"

"Being she doesn't love you, go away, don't come back?" Ron suggested hopefully. Ginny hit him in the arm.

"But I..." Draco stuttered. "I don't understand."

"I don't love you, Draco," Hermione said slowly, trying to be gentle, but she could tell she was breaking his heart as each word came out. "Not yet. It could come in time, but not yet."

"I... I have to go."

Draco ran off into the crowd that had been gathering. Hermione opened her mouth to call after him, but no sound came. Ron and Harry watched him run away.

"Even if it was Malfoy, I almost feel sorry for him," Ron said.

"Ouch, Hermione, that was harsh," Harry agreed.

Ginny scowled at them. "You don't know anything about it. She did the right thing being honest to Malfoy. You shouldn't be forced to say you love someone just because they tell you that they love you."

"Thanks, Ginny," Hermione said, miserably. "But if I did the right thing, why do I feel so wrong?"

Ginny touched her friend's shoulder sympathectically. "Maybe because you care about him, and you know how much it hurt him to tell the truth."

"But I..."

"Wait, before you go into your girl talk," Ron began, "I'm still really confused. You and Malfoy..."

"His name is Draco," Hermione said. "And thanks for punching him, that was great."

"Sorry..." Ron mumbled.

"Well, you have to understand his surprise," Harry said. "We had no idea. But we probably should have, we're your best friends..."

"Yeah, I feel pretty crummy," Ginny agreed. "I knew something was wrong, but I didn't think to ask. I figured... well, I figured you'd tell us."

Hermione didn't say anything. She didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. It was all done. She felt slightly relieved to have her friends know, but now it didn't matter. Draco was probably never going to speak to her again, so all of this was in vain.

"You've been through a rough time," Ginny said, but her voice was flat, and Hermione could barely hear it. "You should go to bed."

"I'll walk up with you," Harry said, and his voice was the same. It was as if they were speaking underwater. Hermione just nodded. It would be nice to talk to Harry again. Harry grabbed her arm and lead her through the crowd of confused students.

They walked up to the castle, up the stone steps, through the doors, and into the Great Hall. Neither of them spoke, and Harry never let go of Hermione's arm. Hermione didn't mind. She felt as though she'd fall if he let go. Fall and never be able to get up.

As they walked up the steps, Hermione noticed Harry watching her. She looked at him.

"What?" she asked.

"You could have told us, Mione," Harry said, his voice hurt. Hermione looked at the ground, watching it pass slowly under their feet. "I mean, at least me and Ginny. I can understand you not telling Ron, since he'd... well, he'd react the way he did tonight. But why not me and Ginny?"

"You didn't exactly welcome him with open arms, Harry," Hermione said, finding that her own voice was just vibrations in her throat. She couldn't really hear it.

"But I would have... it was just so sudden."

"There was no way to tell you without it being sudden."

"So, what?" Harry said. "You were just going to go out with him in secret for the rest of your lives?"

"I don't... I don't know," she answered, truthfully. "I figured after a while, you'd stop caring about me."

Harry stopped and turned her to face him. He held her by the shoulders. She looked away, her eyes were teary. "Listen to me, Hermione. You're brilliant, everyone knows that, but sometimes you're really silly. Me, Gin, and Ron will _always_ care about you. Always. You've gotten me out of more scrapes than I choose to remember. You're my friend, and I love you, okay?"

Hermione looked at him, frightened. Harry sighed. "Not love like _that_, love like sister, okay?"

Hermione nodded. She couldn't speak. Before she knew what she was doing, she flung herself into Harry's arms and wept on his shoulder. And he just held her. Without question, without wanting anything in return. He just hugged her on the stairs, like a brother. Like the friend she had needed, the friend she had sought for in Draco. He just let her cry.

* * *

A/N: Just one more chapter, and epilouge type thing. I wanred you guys it was winding down. :D I'm just so pleased that a lot of people like it. Once I finish this, I'm moving on to a LotR fic, but I have another Harry Potter fic idea swimming in my head, and I might just do it. Well, don't forget to review, they all count and they all make my day happy!


	13. Epilouge

_Chapter Thirteen: Epilouge_

Hermione sat at her desk, breathing calmly, staring out the window of her classroom. She'd been through this three times already, but it still made her nervous. Getting new first years was just the kind of thing that could tear her otherwise sturdy heart away from her.

Last year had been easy, Harry and Ginny's daughter had been in her class. Hermione had known Lily since the day she was born. The only problem had been convincing her to call Hermione "Professor Granger" instead of "Aunt Hermie."

This year, however, was a pause between her best friends children. Ron and Lavender's son, Theodore, was only ten, and therefore wasn't a first year until next year. So, she knew none of these children in advance, and it made her a little nervous.

The bell rang for first period of begin. In filed the patiently waiting students who had been standing outside the door. Hermione was impressed. Usually the first years got lost. She was always willing to give them a few minutes of leinancy, because it was their first day, but it looked like she wouldn't need to, as most of them were already sitting in their seats.

They were all very small and timid looking, and they seemed genuinely frightened of her. This made Hermione smile inwardly. First years were almost always afraid when they first saw her, but she'd heard that when they got to know her, they considered her a fair, and sometimes even kind, teacher.

When the last bell rang, Hermione was very impressed to find every seat occupied. None of them were late. This would be a promising year. She stood up.

"Welcome," she said, ceremoniously, "to Charms class."

As she looked around the room, she saw a small little girl, petite you might call her, with an angled face, platinum blond hair, and steely gray eyes. She had noticed her at the Sorting as well, and already knew her name. Sierra. That was it. Sierra Malfoy.

The class went unusually well. There was no talking out, there were no trouble makers. There had been a few groans when she assigned a small homework assignment (Read through Chapter One of _Simple Spells and Common Curses_ and write one paragraph on the spell of your choice). Other than that, they were perfect.

"Sierra, I'd like you to stay after class for a moment, please," Hermione said, as the class filed away. Sierra looked terrified. Hermione almost laughed. "Don't worry, you're not in trouble."

As soon as all the other students left, Sierra walked timidly to the front of the room, standing only a little bit above the desk edge. "Yes?" she said, her voice soft.

"Do you happen to be related to Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked. Sierra gave a quick nod.

"He's my father."

"And what's your mother's name?"

"Mother?" Sierra repeated, timidly. Hermione nodded. "I'm not sure. Daddy never told me."

"Why's that?"

"She died. In the war with Voldemort. At least that's what Daddy said." Hermione noticed how freely she said the name. So unlike the taboo that had been placed upon it in her school days.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Sierra said, shrugging, but she looked at the ground sadly. "If you don't mind my asking, Professor..."

"Yes?"

"Why did you want to know about my daddy?"

"I used to go to school with him," Hermione answered.

"Were you friends?"

"You could say that. You'd better go to your next class. Tell the teacher I held you up, all right?" Sierra nodded, and practically ran out of the room.

Hermione smiled after her. She had a free period now, and walked briskly up to the owlery.

She whistled, and a great horned owl swooped onto her shoulder. "Hello, Tiponya," she said to her owl, her only family in the magical world. "How are you?"

Tiponya nipped her ear affectionately. Hermione smiled.

"Well, you can fly off, but stay close," she warned. "I'll need to send a letter to Malfoy Manor. All right?"

Tiponya answered this by flying up onto the lowest beam and peering over at her. Hermione laughed. "Silly bird..." she mutter, and sat down and began to write.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_Or should I say Draco? I just met your daughter, she'd wonderfully adorable._

No, that was just silly. Hermione ripped up the parchment and began again.

_Dear Malfoy,_

_You probably do not want to talk to me, as it has been so very long, but I just need to get this off of my chest._

No, that was dumb, too. Dear Malfoy, what a wonderful beginning. Hermione ripped this paper as well, and stared at the blank parchement in front of her. It seemed like an hour before she could think of anything, when finally, she dipped her quill into the ink.

_Dear Draco,_

_I love you, too._

_Hermione.

* * *

_

Hermione was awakened that night with a tapping on her window. She looked up at Tiponya flying in place in front of the window. She got out of bed and opened the window. Tiponya carried a rolled up piece of parchment in her talons. Hermione took it from her and sent her off to the owlery. She wasn't going to reply tonight. It was too late. 

She unrolled the parchment and her heart skipped a beat. It was headed with the seal of Malfoy Manor (A snake coiled around a shimmering silver dragon's scale.).

_My Dear Bittersweet Hermione,_ it began. Hermione already was blushing. Her letter paled in comparison to this, and it was just the heading.

_I have been waiting for you to write since the last moment I saw you, at graduation in seventh year. I have your smiling face plastered in my memory. There does not go a day when I do not think about you._

_But, you hurt me very badly, my love. I never forgot that fateful Valentine's Day when you told me how you truly felt, and I'm sure you haven't either. That's why when I think of the courage it must have taken you to send that small, but uplifting letter, it makes me want to fly into your life once more. Alas, I cannot._

_For one thing, I can't fly._

_I do love you, Hermione Granger, but I'm not sure that we can be together. I love you with all my heart, but perhaps we have waited too long. Perhaps it has all been in vain, your courage and my heartache. But, if you do love me, and if you would still have me, look out your window and because for once I am not afraid to tell the world the way I feel._

_All my Heart and Soul, and anything more that I can give,  
Draco_

Hermione was blushing. She wasn't sure what to make of the letter. She had sat on her bed, back facing the window to read it, and swiftly turned to the window again. Her heart cried out, but her face said nothing.

There, sitting on her window sill, was a vision from a dream. One leg swung absently into the room, the other was bunched up on the window will. His arm rested on his knee, and he had a haphazard smile on his face. His blonde hair was long, and hung into his eyes, but not too long so that it might be put into a ponytail. His gray eyes were shimmering with more happiness than Hermione had ever seen in anyone.

His body was framed by the sky, and when Hermione looked out at it, her heart stopped completely. Written in midnight, as if by the stars themselves, was, "I love you, Hermione Enid Granger. Marry me."

Hermione looked at Draco and her voice caught in her throat. He jumped down from the windowsill and took her in his arms in a kiss that would end all kisses, or begin many more.

"I love you," he whispered to her as they parted. "Will you marry me? Please?"

"I think you know the answer to that better than I do," Hermione said, and kissed him again.

Draco pulled away and they both laughed, although Hermione had tears in her eyes. "There's just one thing," she said. Draco ran his thumb under her eyes.

"Anything, love. Just anything."

"My middle name's not Enid."

FINISHED

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A/N: THANKS FOR ALL OF YOUR REVIEWS! They mean so much to me, they really do. I'm sort of sad it's ended, but I will have more fics up, and you're all welcome (hint hint) to check out my stories on my other fandoms, if you're interested. Don't forget to review this chapter and thanks so much again!


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